Cherry Pumpkin
by 02AngelBaby75
Summary: Nine-year-old Norah, worrisome and precocious, lives a boring and sheltered life until she meets Dusty, whom she is convinced is her savoir from God. She now must keep an angel a secret.
1. Savior

My first FF ever, really. VERY SCARED.

_I just wanted to thank Foxcat93 soooo much for the review! It means so much. I wish I could just hug you!~ Love you... ^^ _

* * *

~Harpo Marx~

_"Harpo was exactly what harp means: Angel. You know, there's a church in Brussels, and on top are all little cherubs. And they all look like Harpo Marx."_

_-George Jessel_

_"He was an angel. There was nobody like him, there never will be anybody like him. He was just simply wonderful."_

_-Gummo Marx_

_"Harpo was almost not of this world, he was saintly, ethereal. He was my favourite person."_

_-Miriam Marx_

_"Comedy is gentle and sweet and good and intelligent and honest, and that is what Harpo Marx was. Comedy makes you feel good, and that is what Harpo Marx did. And when I met him, I found out the best thing of all: That the man, the person, was even more beautiful than the image."_

_-Alan Sherman_

**

* * *

**

My name is Norah, and one day, my day off, I went for a walk in the park and came back home with a person whom God sent just for me.

I'm homeschooled, so I spend all day indoors, except for when I have to do gym, and I make my own schedule, meaning I don't necessarily get weekends off. The day I met, "Him," was a Wednesday.

I was staring out the window and biting my pencil so hard I could hear the crunch in my head and ringing in my ears. I sat it down and flipped it back and forth impatiently. I was going to go crazy. I couldn't do this for one more minute.

* * *

The park down the street was usually the place I went when I had to calm my nerves. I got jumpy and restless pretty easily, a trait that doesn't help when you're a homeschooler.

Sun was shining through the tress above my head. I never walked with my head up; I always looked at my feet. My mother told me this wasn't a good thing. Said it means I needed more confidence. I didn't tell her I don't _quite_ know what "confidence" was. But the whole matter didn't seem important; I let it drop.

Obviously, walking without looking where you're going has its consequences. While heading down a winding path I bumped into something warm and purple. I took a step back, startled, and seen the funniest looking person! He was short, very short, with a bent over top hat sitting on a brilliant shock of curly red hair. His hair was so beautifully curly it looked like a bowl of noodle soup. He wore odd clothes- a long, dark purple trench coat covering mismatched attire, such as stripes and polka- dots.

And yet, despite the overall strangeness of him, he was gaping at _me _as if _I'm _the one who looks crazy.

In his hands he held a way over-sized taxi horn which he honked at me and smiled.

Probably a few times in your life, something will happen and the very second it does, you know it means something of great significance. Take this moment, for example. As soon as he smiled at me, I knew for sure that God had listened, that he had at long last sent me a friend. I smiled back.

Noodle Soup suddenly whirled around and skipped off merrily. I opened my mouth and almost screamed. _My savoir was getting away! _Deciding not to run after him, I followed him casually, trying to not appear as a stalker or something of the sorts.

He stopped in front of someone pushing a cart selling balloons. I leaned against a tree, twirling my hair as I watched my savoir pull out a pair of scissors from his pocket. I blinked as I realized Noodle Soup just _pulled out a pair of scissors!_ Who the heck carries around scissors in their pockets? He then grabbed five balloons before the man selling them coud do a thing and swiftly snipped them.

The balloon vendor's face became red and he looked very angry and embarrassed. He yelled, "What do you think you're doing?"

Before I could stop myself I had taken out some money and held it out to the poor balloon man. He yanked it from me and said, "Thank you." _That was the last of my ten dollar allowance_, I thought sadly.

He pushed the cart away from us, grumbling to himself. My savoir had his head tilted all the way back, holding his top hat in his hands, so I could see the entire, gorgeous head of hair he had. The balloons, three blue, one yellow, and one red, floated way up, all reaching for the cloudless blue sky. I said, equally entranced as him, "You're welcome."

Noodle Soup honked his horn and did something I totally didn't expect. He jumped at me and smothered me in a hug. A very quick hug at that; he let me go in only a couple seconds. He gave nice hugs. Not one of those skimpy hugs where the person clearly doesn't want to touch you, but one where they put everything into it. A warm and fuzzy hug.

Looking into his blue eyes, I asked, "What's your name?" I wasn't sure he would give an answer, since he hadn't spoken a word up to this point.

He pointed to himself, indicating, _Me?_, and I nodded.

My savoir shrugged and honked the taxi horn slowly, sadly. This was just what I wanted! I always dreamed of giving my friends names, I just never thought the opportunity would arise. I looked him up and down, trying to not seem judgmental. His hair reminded me of a giant dust bunny, so I told him," Your name can be Dusty."

"Dusty," beamed, proud of his newfound identity. He poked my stomach with the other end of his horn. I said, "Oh, I'm Norah. Pleased to meet'cha." I performed a extravagant curtsy for Dusty. In return, he bowed, nearly tripping over his own feet, and I laughed.

Dusty linked arms with me and tried leading me the other way, but I dug my heels into the ground and said, "Home's this way." I expected a fight, because all saviours, even if they are sent from God, are not perfect. But instead, this one simply gave up and followed me right to my house, skipping happily. He was spellbound by practically everything, from the dandylions to the birds to fire hydrants. He honked every now and then, each time causing me to smile wide.


	2. Closet

Because I had been so caught up in the moment, I didn't even think a single thought of what I would do with Dusty. Luckily, I knew Dad was at work and my sister was at school, so that took care of two people. I would have to get Dusty past Mom, who has eyes in the back of her head...My stomach did a flip flop as we walked onto my street.

I looked over my shoulder at Dusty, who was following closely behind me, taking in the scenery. I said, "When we get there, you're gonna have to be quiet, 'kay?"

Dusty perked up. He pretended to lock his lips, throw away the key.

I smiled weakly."Good."

Once we were at the front door, and Dusty had ran his fingers all across the front of the house, I heard some loud noises from the backyard. I thought it was Mom, which would work out perfectly. "Dusty," I told him, "stay right there. Don't move until I get back."

Dusty saluted me, but on my very first step, he was right behind me again. "I said stay here." I went around the back of my house, and this time Dusty stayed.

Mom was sitting on the dirt in her garden, a large white bucket beside her, filled halfway up with weeds, and a trowel in her gloved hands. She gave me the original _Where-Have-you-Been-Young-Lady _look, which I dreaded.

"Hi, Mom," I said nervously.

She wiped her hands on her jeans, which were already caked with mud. "Hello, Norah. What's up? How's school?"

"How's school," is the most-asked Mom question there is. She asks me it constantly. "I needed a break," I said truthfully. I explained to her how I was stuck on a math problem and how I chewed my pencil so hard it could have broken in half.

"Oh," she said. She pulled out a couple more of those evil green leaves and dropped them in the pail. "Go back in and finish it, then, and you can be done today." Mom went back to pulling weeds, and I left.

To my utter shock, I couldn't find Dusty. Then I heard what sounded like somebody falling and doing a face-plant into the floor. Sure enough, the window to my sister's room was wide open...

It would be pointless to go in through the door _now_, so I crawled through Natalie's window, too, landing on my butt. When I opened my eyes, I seen Dusty sitting in the middle of the floor, the contents of Nat's garbage bin surrounding him. He was holding it upside down and shaking the last bit of mascara-covered cotton balls out. He seemed quite determined.

"Dusty!" I said, instantly panicking. "What did you do?" I scrambled over and started grabbing all the pieces of homework and broken eye shadow applicators and throwing them back where they belonged, and Dusty watched with great curiosity.

I sighed in relief as I cleaned the last bit of it up. Dusty honked.

Leading him up the stairs to my room, the door opened and Mom asked if I was done school yet.

"All-almost!" I said, feeling light-headed as I yanked Dusty into my humble abode. I slammed the door behind us and dove to the floor to look under my bed. It was, sadly, too crowded for him to fit. Boxes of key chains, what I collected, were taking up all the possible space.

Dusty was looking intently at the spines of the books on my bookshelf. I was going to take one off the shelf and give it to him, but there was no time. Frantically, I jerked open my closet and shoved Dusty in, pressing a finger to my lips before closing it. He banged on it twice and I hissed, "Shh! Shush!"

I hoped I could trust my savoir, Dusty, to be quiet as I covered up. Mom stood with her hands on her hips, suspicious."Finished?"

"Uh, no."

"Well, hurry up."

"Okay."

Stiffly, I went back into my room and closed the door silently.

Thank goodness, Dusty was still in the closet. The only problem was he had on my pink sun dress. I couldn't help but smile. "Nice fit," I said, even though he only had half of it on. It sort of suited him, to be honest.

Dusty tipped his hat and attempted pulling the dress off, but it was much too small, making me wonder how he had gotten it on in the first place. "Here," I said. I carefully lifted his top hat off his head, my fingers brushing slightly against an amazing lock of hair.

This time it was a little easier. When Dusty finally got the stupid thing off, he banged his elbow on the wall. Of course, being myself, I screamed bloody murder, dropping the hat.

Dusty visibly jumped. Bending down and picking up his hat after the initial shock, he brushed it off like it was dirty or something. He glared at me and boldly put it back on.

That thing was like his only child.


	3. Read

Once I had Dusty settled, I went straight back to work.

Honking the large taxi horn thoughtfully, Dusty continued examining my books. I stood beside him and said," You can look at one if you want." I didn't know why he hadn't helped himself already. He had to practically everything else.

Dusty raised his hand and held his chin, trying to decide. He closed his eyes and randomly picked one. He looked down at it, then handed it to me. It said in bright blue block letters: " _Electronic Media and Industrialized Nations; A Comparative Study_." The author was Donald R. Browne.

I didn't even know I had this book. I gave it back to Dusty, saying, "Do you want to read it?"

Dusty sat down on the floor. He scootched over and leaned against the wall. I plopped down beside him, my butt still hurting from when I had landed on it earlier in Natalie's room.

He fanned his face with the pages, and only then did I realize this book had to be at least five hundred pages long...Dusty fanned it faster and faster, making his hair blow around from the wind and to blink like crazy.

Annoyed, I snatched it from him and said, "Do you wanna read it?"

Dusty frowned, sadly, giving his horn a long honk; a sigh.

"Something else, maybe? What's wrong, Dusty?" I scratched my head a bit, tangling my dirty blonde hair even more. He took it from me slowly and held the thick book very close to his face, his eyes scanning the words with enormous concentration. It suddenly occurred to me. I fiddled with my socks, trying to figure out how to put it. "You-you can't read, can you?" I said quietly.

Dusty's eyes filled with tears, but none came out. He brushed imaginary ones away, nodding.

"Oh," I said. I can't imagine not being able to read. Reading was everything to me, I read all the time. How would I do work? How would I graduate? How would I do _anything_? How could I truly succeed in life? I couldn't even get a job at McDonalds!

Dusty continued fanning the book's pages. Patting his arm, I said, "We could read I-SPY?" I went over to the shelf and grabbed the huge book, the one I had since I was three, and sat down and opened it, so one side was on Dusty's leg and the other on mine.

Dusty's shoulders, which were slouching, suddenly went back to where they were supposed to be, and he chucked, _Electronic Media and Industrialized Nations; A Comparative Study,_ across the room. It banged against my wall loudly. I cringed, praying Mom didn't hear that. Good thing I locked the door, something I regularly did, so at least she wouldn't be suspicious. People say I'm paranoid, but I disagree. I enjoy my privacy is all.

_Honk honk._

"What?"

Dusty pointed to the elastic band in the picture, and I was shocked. That was the_ one_ item I couldn't find on this page! Naturally, I held up my hand for a high five, but I guess Dusty didn't know what a high five was because my only gesture turned into a game of Patty-cake.

I started laughing. And laughing. I couldn't quit, and I put my hand in my mouth to stop myself. Dusty was _pretending _to laugh, no sound was coming out, which was, trust me, a lot funnier than you think it would be.

Finally, I calmed myself down, taking a deep breath. Me and Dusty flipped the page and started on the next one.

All I could think about was poor Dusty. How he couldn't read. And poor Donald R. Browne, whom we ditched to play I-SPY, as he laid there, face down on my bedroom floor.


	4. Recluse

The next few days consisted of me locking myself in my room; eating meals in there, doing school in there, doing almost everything but the bathroom. And what was supposed to be the best time in my life-my savoir had arrived!- was honestly very boring.

Well, maybe not _boring_. Nothing could be boring with Dusty around. But, yet, I hadn't transformed into the beautiful butterfly I thought I would be. Life continued on as always, besides the fact I had a person, a person from God, living in my closet and under my bed. A person who would, when I least expected it, reach over and steal handfuls of food off my plate. I shouldn't complain, though. He had to eat, too.

By now I had accepted this lifestyle as the way it was always going to be until I grew up and left home. Got married and had kids. Grew old and died. That would be that. I would go up to heaven, if I were good, and maybe one day I would be sent to Earth to save someone. Doubt it, though. I didn't even want to think of it. Just like Dusty, I must live in the moment.

* * *

One day Mom came up to me as I was taking lunch up to my room and said," _Norah_."

I ignored her, biting my cheek because I knew I was in for a classic, "Talk." I kept on going up the stairs until Mom said, "Norah, come here, please." Like I didn't hear her the first time. I would be in a heap of trouble if I continued ignoring her, which made me stop and turn around.

She stood for a few seconds, just looking at me and at the cheese and crackers in my hand. I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking of me that moment. If it was good or bad.

"Norah," she said using my name the third time, "I'm worried about you."

"Why?" I asked, a fever breaking along my neck. _Haven't I been careful enough?_

"You're becoming a recluse," she stated in a motherly tone. "You spend all day by yourself."

_If only you knew,_ I thought, smiling on the inside.

"So I want you to get out a bit. You don't even go to the park anymore."

"But-but I'm getting a ton of work done," I said, rather lamely, although this was the truth. I was an entire week ahead of where I should be, and I felt strangely proud.

Mom nodded. Nodded and nodded and nodded. "Tomorrow I want you to go for a walk, get some fresh air. Mmkay?"

I didn't realize until then, but I was digging my nails into my palm. I let up and said, "Alright."

For the remainder of the day, I stuck like glue to Dusty. I let him eat over half the cheese and crackers and let him play with my collection of erasers.

Dusty honked at me, just as I finished question #18 in math. "Yes?" I asked, not looking up from my paper.

He held up a smallish green eraser, the one I had last year in grade three. It was stupid, but a single eraser could bring back a flood of memories. "I had that last year, " I told him. "It's one of my favourites."

Dusty held it up in the light and whistled. I thought about it, then said," You can keep it if you want. Like a good luck charm or whatever."

Dusty kissed it, then put it in his pocket. "Do you have anything interesting in there?" I asked, remembering the scissors he used to snip the balloons off the vendor's cart, freeing them to the sky.

Vigorously shaking his head yes, Dusty stuck his hand in his trench coat pocket. I was anxious to see what he would pull out this time. I started rocking back and forth in my chair.

Triumphant, Dusty showed me a...white piece of wood. Looking closer, it was actually a piece of a baseboard. I wasn't too surprised. His pockets were bottomless, just another reason I knew god sent him. I turned back to #19, trying not to laugh.

* * *

That night, when Dusty, who slept on a big pile of pillows and three blankets on the floor right beside my bed, was asleep, I had a good cry. I don't feel like life is getting any better. I was doomed to misery. I simply felt like _me_, and I couldn't _stand _me. But mostly I cried because Mom was right- I was becoming a recluse. I did need to get out there more, but what would I do with Dusty? Gosh, I wish I had thought these things out.

Not five minutes after I gave myself a stern talking to, did Dusty honk, followed by a sigh.

I wiped my eyes and sniffed.

_Hooonk. _It scared me so much I pictured my eyes bugging out the way they did when something scared me, according to Natalie.

"Shh! I mean..." My voice sounded like I had a cold. "It's nothing, Dusty. I'm okay."

In the darkness, Dusty reached up and took my hand in his and squeezed it, not like he didn't want to, but not with the forcefulness Mom used when we were shopping and I acted up. Most people have familiarity with this. Parents grab your hand and grip you with ferocity , giving you a silent warning to stop whatever the heck you're doing that's considered disgraceful in public.

There's some things you never forget, even if the action were as trivial as holding someone's hand.

With just me, Dusty, and the pale moonlight creeping into my room, something was telling me things were going to be fine the way they are.


	5. Harp

_My friend Daisy is turning 92 today! January 13__th__, 1918_

* * *

I decided to get out, like mom told me. Something as normal and every-dayish could work wonders, I thought.

All morning was spent pacing, wondering what to do. Bring Dusty or leave him? If I brought him, how would I get him out of the house without anyone seeing? I had done such a good job of keeping him a secret, but it won't last much longer. Part of me was always braced for his discovery. One time Mom would wonder why my plate was empty frequently, without a scrap left. Forgetting to lock the door, Natalie would waltz right in without knocking, not caring that I never enter _her _room without knocking.

Most of all, I was scared Dusty would do something embarrassing or get us in trouble.

But I realized I would be being selfish, locking Dusty up all day. He needed some fresh air as much as me.

That's how I ended up leaping out of my bedroom window and coming this close to sure death and perhaps a broken limb. I'm more than grateful Dusty was there to break my fall. Then again, I could have walked out the front door as a normal person, and not have to jump out a window like an insane one, if Dusty had stayed behind. After that I pinched my arm for thinking such things.

Dusty didn't walk _with_ me, he walked _behind _me. I didn't really have much of a problem with that. So long as he was _with _me, I felt alright.

We went all over. Around the block, once stopping to throw pinecones at a tree, accidentally almost hitting an old lady. We went through the park, the red-faced balloon vendor running off as soon as he got a look at Dusty and I. We stopped for ice cream cones, but it was too late when I found out I had no money; Dusty's toppled to the ground. I imagined the ants down there, those poor, hard-working ants who never did anything to anybody, swimming in a vanilla ocean. We had to run for our lives, and, luckily, we lost the guy in an alley.

Then we went down the street, window shopping, in all the crowds of people. Dusty stopped at one, but I kept going. He honked and stamped his foot. I came back to him and looked through the window at what he was looking at.

It was a harp.

"Wow," I said, sincerely. Dusty, though, was gawking at it as if it were the most beautiful thing in the history of the world. He pressed his face flat against the window and I had to pull him away.

_Honk honk_.

"It's nice," I told him, "but what about it? Harps-"

Before I was done, Dusty had swung open the door, honking three times, and rushed inside. I was right behind him, as he was usually right behind me.

The woman at the counter looked up with a puzzled expression, her eyes focused on Dusty, then on me. "Hello," she said. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose braid. She had pale blue eyes and a nice smile. A guitar sat on a desk beside her. She had a cloth in her hand, and I assumed she's polishing it.

Dusty took one look at her, and instantly struck fear into the woman's heart. I could tell because she dropped the cloth and screeched, throwing her hands over her face. I started sweating all down my back and to my knees.

I stood there and stupidly watched as Dusty honked and chased her madly all over the room, knocking over anything in his way, which was, I'm still thankful for, not much.

Still screaming in absolute terror, the blonde dashed through a door in the back and I seen a glimpse of tall piles of boxes and a very shiny red piano before the door was almost slammed off its hinges form panic. Dusty stood in front of it for a few minutes, though it felt like _much _longer. It was almost like he could burn a hole through the wood with his eyes.

And, for a split second, I believed it. I'd never seen such eyes as Dusty's, so full of determination, and..something cloudy.

When he turned back to me, he was smiling, forgetting anything had happened. I tried to smile-but failed.

He laced his fingers together, held them out in front of him and loudly cracked them. Looked at the harp, then me. "I don't know, Dusty. It's big and you might break it or something."

Dusty waved his hand, like he was telling me to go away; I didn't know anything. I _humphed_.

I crossed my arms and sat on the floor, since there was nowhere else. I tapped my foot impatiently. "Dustyyyyy..." I knew how annoying my whining was, but I didn't want to get more embarrassed than I already was. If that poor lady came out and seen Dusty...

Shushing me, Dusty closed his eyes, then opened them quickly, as if he were all alone and I wasn't even there. He took off his top hat and fiddled with it awhile, like he was deciding what to do with it. The clouds in his blue eyes cleared and he was back to his old self, like he was now in his comfort zone. The hat ended up being sat scrupulously on the harp, and there it rested. It was so puzzling, the way it fit. Dusty's hat was _made_ to be a part of this harp. His face softened as he positioned the harp between his knees and rested the end on his shoulder. I held my breath, going as far as blowing my cheeks out, my mouth so full of air.

What came next was unlike anything I had ever heard. I forced myself to stand up because there was turning inside of me and I felt like I needed to stand and hold onto something to make it stop.

And his face! It was the first-and only?- time he was even remotely serious. Something electric slid down my spine, seeing Dusty be serious and _not _smiling. Maybe it wasn't seriousness now that I think back on it- it was more peacefulness. A break from the mayhem.

He threw a very quick glance at me, then I looked away because I was worried I was throwing Dusty off.

He played a little while longer, and it wasn't till I heard a sob beside me, something wet on my cheek, and a tissue in my face did I realize the blonde woman had come back out. She was standing beside me, crying. I must have been, too, because she offered me the Kleenex, and, waving it at me, said, "Beautiful."

I took it and wiped my cheeks.

Dusty, once he was done, planted his top hat where it belonged, grabbed his horn which was propped up against the wall and honked it three times, happier than I'd ever seen him.

Tipping his hat at the lady he previously scared half to death like the gentleman he most certainly was, we left for home.

Dusty was playing that harp like it were as easy as anything. I pictured golden honey dripping off the strings, it was so amazing. Sometimes things of enormity dawn on you long after they should have.


	6. Love

_I made a Cajun hamburger casserole for Social Studies today! It was good, but I burnt the rice a bit. _

_And thank you LadyMallard a lot for the reviews!~ God bless you for reading._

* * *

"Dusty?" I asked one day, as we sat on the grass in my backyard. The sky was a big mix of white, pink, and orange.

_Honk_, he honked in reply.

I looked over at him. "I'm hungry."

He made an 'O' shape with his mouth, went into his bottomless pocket, and pulled out a Hershey's cookies and cream chocolate bar. He handed it to me, and I took it gingerly. "Thanks," I said as I watched him pull out a big red apple. I blinked, much as I did when he yanked out the scissors. My stomach did a summersault. I was _still_getting used to the fact God sent him and that's the only reason he was so weird and had everything imaginable always with him.

I unwrapped my chocolate bar and munched away, and Dusty took huge bites out of his apple, crunching loudly. He laid down on his back, facing the brindled sky, sighing.

Grinning, I gasped and pointed at him. I had _finally _done it, after all this time, and I wasn't' even trying!

Dusty reached above his head to grab his horn. _Honk_?

"You know what," I said smugly.

He honked once more.

"Don't try that!" I laughed. I uncrossed my legs and laid beside him on the soft, warm grass. I placed my arms behind my head like pillow. "That's the closet you've ever-"

_Honk honk._

"-Come to actually talking. Actually _saying _something." I chewed and swallowed the last piece of my chocolate bar, savouring it. It somehow tasted better, knowing Dusty gave it to me. I then turned over and sat my chin in my hand, so now I was directly facing him. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" I asked, cricking my nose.

Dusty turned over on his side like me, held his head up as I did. He opened his mouth and began forming a word, and my heart was in my throat, hardly containing my excitement...

...And he took a deep breath and blew it in my face, my hair flying back, my eyes automatically closing. I rolled back over and broke into a hysterical fit of laughter, all while Dusty honked numerous times, then threw the apple core over the fence into my neighbour's yard. I didn't care. I didn't like them, really. They made me put the sprinkler I would run through in the summer away because it petrified their stupid Pomeranian. A fuzzy ball of evil was all she was.

I laughed until it hurt to breathe. I started choking and Dusty patted my back until I recovered. "Dusty?" I said now that we were both sitting upright again.

He honked in question.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Dusty playfully shoved me , not really trying to hurt me, and I came back over and shoved him, too. With a flourish he fell to the ground, clutching his heart. One leg twitching a bit, he died.

Trying to appear serious, I sat on his stomach and said," Oh no...Dusty's dead now, so I guess I can do this." I took his beloved top hat and firmly adjusted it on my head.

Then-miracle of miracles!- Dusty came back to life and snatched it right off of me. In one swift motion, he had me in the air and on his shoulders. I yelped because he had never done such a thing. What if he drops me? I frantically threw my arms around him as he marched me around the yard then safely put me back to Earth. I had that stir of when you spin around in circles and aren't able to walk in a straight line afterwards. Like you've gotten up much too fast. "As I was getting to," I repeated dizzily, "have you ever been in love?"

Dusty was blushing.

I poked him."Have you?" The sun was showing no mercy and I was practically dying from the heat. I didn't know how Dusty seemed fine in that heavy, purple coat.

Dusty blushed harder, but stuck his hands in both his pockets, and, out of the left one, drew a picture. He had the back of it facing me so I couldn't see. I tried grabbing it, but he held it way up in the air so I couldn't reach it. "Let me look!" I said.

Dusty shook his head, admiring what I guessed was his love. When he seen my pleading eyes he finally gave it to me.

"A-a horse?" I asked in disbelief."You're in love with a horse?"

Blushing madly, Dusty seriously nodded. He stole it back from me and gave it a big, sloppy kiss. He looked at it with round, love-filled eyes a little longer, then returned it to the deep depths of his pocket.

"A horse," I said again, my hands on my hips. "My, oh my.."

_Honk honk_.

"I once fed a horse an apple and it almost bit me, but I moved my hand before it could. My Dad said, 'You better be careful, Norah, it's gonna eat you,' except I didn't believe him. Should I?" I asked Dusty, thinking perhaps he knew a lot more about this than I did.

Dusty crossed his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders. He honked.

"_Would it_?"

He shrugged another time and spun around in circles before plummeting straight down to his knees, then onto his heels, then onto his face. I stared down at him and blinked. "Dusty?" I said, unsurely. He wasn't moving, so I just toppled down beside him and we stayed like that awhile, musing over the subject of horses and love.


	7. Sick

For the last two days, I think I had been catching the flu. I felt dizzy all the time and had a stomach ache like when I ate too much ice cream at Christmas that one time, and to top it all off I had a small headache when I laid down.

Mom told me I was being dramatic again. She said I'm a hypochondriac, but I really don't know what that means. It sounded like a clothing line, but that's sort of dumb on my part.

* * *

It was a Saturday. I look back now and believe that day had the feeling more of a Sunday. But that couldn't be. Mom and Dad had to go to work, even though they had started early every day of the week. I decided I would bake them some cookies, since they had been working so hard. Dusty could help, if only he would get his butt out of bed when he was supposed to.

I felt fine and well-rested, thinking I was miraculously cured, until I sat up in bed. A sharp pain erupted in my head and it straightaway began aching. I started sweating ice-cold buckets of water, and, with creaking bones, I got out of bed and stumbled over Dusty, trying hard not to wake him up, to the door. I fell right into it and was shaking so badly I couldn't even wrap my fingers around the doorknob."D-dusty?"I asked, leaning against my bookcase. I could barely stand. My legs were like blades of grass, desperately endeavouring to hold all 73 pounds of me."Dusty?" I said again, louder.

_Honk. _He was awake now, curiously looking up at me from his bed on the floor. He fiddled with the corner of one of the three yellow, pink, and white blankets.

"Dusty, " I said, my head aching so I didn't know what else to actually say. I couldn't think.

In seconds he was up and beside me, without shoes, just argyle socks, without his coat, just a polka dot shirt. He gently shook my shoulder. I looked at him with watery eyes. I shook all over and yet I was burning hot. I gasped, " I'm not feeling so good. "

Dusty _tssked _and rested his hand on my forehead. I knew I had a fever. He took it off and wiped it on his pants. He then scooped me up right into his arms. I didn't struggle or try to get loose; I was so tired.

He carried me to the kitchen and sat me on the counter very mindfully. I felt heavy. And I couldn't help myself; I cried. Not like the sobbing I had done earlier, just the kind where tears spill out beyond your control and it's impossible to turn off the stupid faucet.

Dusty threw open and the drawers and cupboards noisily, and then looked to me for help. Because he and I virtually share the same mind (we _were _soul mates) I knew exactly what he wanted. I pointed to a cupboard beside the window. "There," I said in a scratchy voice. I sounded unfamiliar to myself; I didn't sound like I thought I regularly did. People never do , though. Someone told me our own voices sound different to everyone, but that dosent seem possible if you ask me.

He nodded fiercely, opened it recklessly, then came back over to me with a thermometer. But not the one I truly thought it was. Dusty stuck a _meat _thermometer in my mouth, the one Mom sticks in the chicken to make sure it's eatable. He put his other hand behind my head and with his free hand tapped the front to make sure it worked properly; it didn't.

"No!" I slapped it away, out of my mouth. Dusty shrugged, about to turn to grab some other crazy thing to stick in my mouth when a call of, "Norah!" could be heard from downstairs.

Fudge. I am stupid. I am the stupidest girl on the Earth. And I think I deserve a savoir such as Dusty, the most brilliant person around. I am so, so stupid.

Dusty honked at Natalie, then came over and stood beside me, telling Nat in his own way I belonged with _him_, not _her_.

Natalie's face was the palest I had ever seen it. I contemplated she was going to faint. But, hey, I thought _I _was going to faint. Luckily, neither of us had so far. She stumbled forward and held her hands out in front of her. Like she was in a dark room, not a room flooded with early morning sunlight. Instead of asking the _dreadfully _obvious question, she said in a strange, whispery voice, "Why are you crying?"

Her black hair was put up in a messy ponytail and she wore her fuzzy blue pyjamas. I stared over the top of her head at the wall as I felt the hot tears continue tumbling down my cheeks, off my nose, onto my folded arms.

The kitchen was spinning. I had the oddest sensation, like falling. Natalie screamed," _Why are you crying_?"

She said this so loud I felt Dusty jump in surprise beside me.

"Why are you crying?"

Natalie was asking this for only one reason I could fathom, which was for the reason that she wanted to act like Dusty wasn't there. That's how scared she was. She had to pretend my savoir wasn't even _there_; she pretended she couldn't even _see_ him... I jumped off the counter with more strength than I knew I had, especially in my current nearly dying condition. How _dare_ she!

"I'm-I'm not crying."

Natalie's green eyes were wild with fear. Her whole body was visibly trembling. I felt bad for her, rather than angry. I found it so simple to slip off into a place in my mind where I was mean, where I turned against my own sister. Dusty may have been an angel, but this was my flesh and blood, my blister of a sister. So I took Dusty's sleeve and he shuffled over to Nat with me. My hands were slick with my tears and sweat and I laced them together and held them out in front of me. "This is Dusty," I said very quietly, afraid of her reaction.

Dusty honked his over-sized taxi horn and smiled his charming smile. He waved. When Natalie just stared, he scratched his curly hair, glanced at me, shrugged. Then he turned around, took a deep breath in preparation for I didn't know what, and did a cartwheel.

Well, _half _a cartwheel. It is a kitchen, after all; a smallish kitchen at that. He only was halfway through it when he collided with the wall- that put an end to that.

Natalie screamed, "_Norah_!" and pointed to the dent in the wall.

"What about it? It's not _that big_." The aching in my head returned and I think to this day still, I literally stepped out of my skin and let someone crazier than Dusty obtain control over me. I took advantage of Nat's moment of weakness and grabbed both her arms and marched her to the closet in the hallway across from my room. It was Mom's "Cleaning closet," meaning it contained stuff like paper towel, Mr. Clean, Vim, toothpaste, even, for when we used ours up.

Natalie was too shocked about Dusty so she couldn't really help herself when I locked her in with the help of a broom Dusty handed me.

Nat started yelling and pounding her fists on the door. "Norah! Norah, _please_, look at yourself, look at you!"

_Look at yourself. _Yuck. I probably looked like a horrid mess of over worn P.J's and a nest of uncombed legs buckled and I fell to the floor. I sat with my back against the wall and pondered as I heard Dusty in the kitchen, opening the fridge, breaking out the pickle jar, chomping away. I was going to throw up, I knew it. I ran to the sink, barging past Dusty, and turned myself inside out. Puking was something nobody particularly enjoyed doing, but I somehow felt relieved when it all came out. For two reasons: I knew I wasn't a hypo-whatever; I wasn't dramatic, and secondly , I must have lost a pound.

Dusty put the pickles back. He came over to me and shook me gently, to make sure all of it was out of me. I talked to Dusty then, differently than I ever had. "I've done something awful," I told him, my voice only above a whisper. In the background we could hear Natalie trying to get out of the, "Cleaning closet." I'll bet it smelled in there, smelled like Windex and strong cleaning products.

Shivers chased each other up and down my spine. I said," We have to leave." And I was running around, stuffing cookies in my pocket, giving oranges and cheese strings and crackers to Dusty, and he put them in his pockets. And we went out the door after Dusty had put on his shoes and his trusty purple coat, slammed it (and forgot to lock it!) and in less than a minute, we were off.


	8. Everyone

At first I just walked as fast as I could without running. Down the trying street, away from my locked-up sister. I was walking as fast as I could, trying to run-unsuccessfully. I knew I could go faster. Like when you're in water and you're to get somewhere in it, but to heck with how hard you try, you can't go faster. You _know _you can, but your body won't listen and you simply _can't_.

My legs finally gave and I crumpled to the side of the road. A winding, long road with nobody on it. No people, no cars. Just us and a grassy field on either side of us. Dusty was soon with me. He tapped my shoulder, then gestured to what I was wearing. I looked down and nearly sobbed. I had my pink pyjamas on, the ones with little ice cream cones scattered on the pants. Natalie had blue ones. They were a present from our Aunt Betty for Christmas. I ran my fingers through my knotted hair, fighting with myself not to yank any out.

Admiring our surroundings, I came to realize I didn't know where we were. But I wasn't in a predominantly caring mood; I felt sick again.(Not that it had ever _really_ gone away.) I said, "Can I eat something?"

Dusty wasn't listening. Instead he was staring at me. I tried to stare back, but it felt too awkward; I looked away. Spread my legs out in front of me and studied my shoes. My cheeks felt hot and I couldn't tell if it were because I was ill, or embarrassed. Probably either or. I didn't like Dusty seeing me in a mess like this.

I could tell Dusty was smiling. I snapped," I haven't eaten yet, I'm starving." Then I remembered I had Oreos in my smallish pocket, so I yanked one out with such force it broke in half. Tears immediately filled my eyes and I shrieked, "_Fudge_!" I chucked one half of the stupid thing as far as I could. We watched the Oreo land softly on the grass on the other side of the road.

_Honk honk_.

I said to Dusty," Gosh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got mad over a cookie." I raised my hand to my face and felt my forehead. I still had a fever, hot to the touch and it wasn't helping that the sun shone brightly. Most people would think that living in a naturally sunny area is nice, but I would tell them it most certainly is not, especially when you're dying.

Holding the Oreo to my mouth, I said," Well, shouldn't be a total loss." I popped it in, chewed, swallowed thickly. The simple action of eating hurt my throat so much it made me change my mind. I didn't need food. Not now, anyway.

Apparently Dusty did. He had a pile of crackers on his legs and was occupied peeling away an orange. I watched in fascination as he set each piece meticulously on each cracker until he had a whole meal consisting of-not _cheese_ and crackers- _oranges_ and crackers, placed one by one down his legs. He held one out to me. I said, "No thank you, I'm not hungry."

He honked in agitation, telling me in the style only Dusty could that I was just complaining about starving a minute ago. In the end, he left the matter by itself and ate every single one of his crackers and oranges.

I had my knees drawn up to my chest and placed my chin on top of them .I confessed to Dusty, " I don't know where we are." The sky was grey and blackish, all of a sudden, and the sun was being blocked out. It was a relief, really. But not enough of a relief to make me feel less sick. I picked off a little fuzz ball from my pyjamas and sat it in the grass between me and Dusty. It didn't stay long, though; the wind blew it away. I couldn't see where it went since it was so small.

That one thing- that piece of fuzz that came off from my jamies- made my mind swirl. All my life I felt trapped, stuck in my own diminutive world with my books and math and frequent walks in the park. That was it. That was my _entire_life, right there. And then Dusty, my savoir from God comes along, and look where I end up. I should have hated him, loathed him for what he's done. Hated that he took me away from my perfect life and taught me the importance of not caring at all what people thought of you. I _should _have, so why didn't I?

"Oh, Dusty," I mumbled, holding my head. It hurt so much."Dusty?"

He honked twice.

Thinking of Natalie, thinking of what poor Mom and Dad would say when they came home from a long day's work and found her locked in the, "Cleaning closet," I said, just above a whisper," I made a mistake." I ran my hands over the grass, taking notice how it didn't shine like it did when the sun wasn't hiding behind clouds. I said it again, louder , in case Dusty wasn't listening. "I made a mistake."

Dusty didn't honk, didn't touch me, didn't do anything. He merely gave me a face, as if to say, _Everyone makes mistakes_.


	9. Jello

The sky grew so dark it looked like someone took a paintbrush and stroked black and grey paint all around me and Dusty.

We walked down the road and a car drove by, the first one yet. It was small and yellow, a punch buggie. The sound of it driving by amazed me. How one car, it seemed, could disturb the silence of the whole world. I half-heartedly punched Dusty's arm. "No returns." There's some things in life that cannot be ignored, despite the circumstances, and this is one of them.

Dusty honked and shook his head. He could not _believe _he missed that one.

The fields were endless, the road was endless. I started babbling to Dusty about a dream I had last night. "Me and you were eating Corn Pops in my bathroom. You were on the floor and I was sitting on the side of the tub, except it was green..." I was interrupted as Dusty bent over, lifted me onto his shoulders, and continued marching onward. I was glad. My legs were hurting almost as bad as my head. My head was probably why I was in such a talkative mood. My chin atop of Dusty's frizzy afro, I went on, "It was green, and then it was actually _Jell-o_. So I took a piece off and ate it, and then it broke. I fell through the floor..." Dusty tightened his grip on my legs as if I really _were_ about to fall-" and fell into a big orange_ box_. That was Jell-O, too. And you were there, all of a sudden, eating it apart. I said,' Don't, the hippos are coming.' And you kept right on stuffing your face."

Dusty dragged his teeth back and forth across his bottom lip, seriously considering himself doing such a thing. Such a thing as eating an orange Jell-O box.

Now that I knew he was listening, I rattled on, "Suddenly we were at _Wal-Mart_, and you were buying a Jell-O _pudding_. And I was_ playing _with a Jell-O hippo. But not eating it."

_Honk_.

"Yeah." I twisted my finger around in a lock of his noodle soup hair. A white car drove by, a second, this time facing us. The man driving didn't even look our way.

We went on in silence awhile. I tried not to think of how hopelessly lost and alone we were. There wasn't a soul that could that could help us. I felt painfully alive, still, because this is for sure the most exciting thing that's ever happened in my entire nine years of living.

Dusty must have felt the same way or close to it. He was skipping, and I was just bouncing along.

I felt a raindrop _plop_ on my arm. I stared at it, then wiped it off as I dared to let go of Dusty. I told him," It's raining." Suddenly, as if I were being punished for mentioning this out loud, it began pouring. I kicked Dusty's side, maybe a little harder than planned, saying, "Can I get down?" and he sat me back on the wet gravel.

It was raining so hard. The kind of rain when you were soaked through and through in the span of measly _seconds_. My uncle was a mailman, though, and he says whether rain or shine, he gets out there and does his duty for humanity. Dusty and I may not be doing _humanity _any favours, but a little rain won't stop us. God sent Dusty, so a downpour shouldn't hurt him. Or me.

We had probably been gone three hours, give or take. And way in the distance-_way_, way in the distance-I could see lights. I smiled, pointed, my body shaking uncontrollably from the coldness."Look," I said.

_Honk honk_. Dusty appeared happy as could be, and I watched his hair, how it didn't frizz out more like I expected, but flattened out a little. It fell down so it looked more like girl's hair than his regular afro. I smiled more, and I guess I smiled so wide it made me sneeze.

Dusty stopped, bent down in front of me and stared hard at me awhile. I again had the unpleasant feeling of him seeing me sick like this. I looked down at the ground, at raindrops filling up small depressions in the road, forming puddles.

I sneezed again, breaking the thick air between us with a shatter.

Dusty, quick as ever, produced a dainty white handkerchief. He took my clammy hand and sat it in my palm, then closed my fingers around it as I sneezed. He did his.._.pantomime_, I suppose you could call it, laugh, and stood back up and kept walking on. I opened my hand and took the handkerchief and blew my nose. As I was about to catch up to Dusty, give him it back, I noticed there was a purple _N _embroidered in the fabric. _N _for Norah.

"Dusty!"

_Honk_? He turned to me.

I held it up and waved it around. "For me?" I asked. The only reply I received was a nod and the continuous thud of the rain. "Thank you, it's nice."

Side-by-side once more, Dusty and I drew closer to whatever possessed the light in front of us. I said more to myself than anyone," I wonder if we could get some Jell-O there."

Dusty mouthed the word _Jell-O _three times, then raised his head, leaning so far backwards he almost fell. Rain streamed down his face, and I wondered if he was searching for some divine guidance above from the god of Jell-O, praying that he and I could eat some.


	10. Cherry

The town was small and sleepy; a bump in the road. The instant I saw it's name on a wooden sign painted green, _Blueberry, Freedonia; Population: 935_, I knew I had been there before. Shaking Dusty's arm I partly lied, party told the truth, " I can tell I've been here before."

Dusty nodded.

The place was so sleepy, though. We walked past only a few people. One man with a fedora tipped his hat and Dusty excitedly returned the gesture, probably not used to seeing such an old-fashioned thing.

When I seen a street sign, Cherry, every instinct I had was screaming at me to go that way. I just didn't know _why_.

I stopped dead in my tracks and took a good look around. I knew for sure I've been here; I racked my tired brain trying to remember. I finally said, "Come on." I started off that way, but Dusty grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. I dug my heels into the pavement and said," What are you doing?" This moment reminded me of when I first found Dusty and he tried dragging me in the opposite direction, but gave up. Not this time. He was determined, as usual.

"Dusty," I hissed as he yanked me forward, causing me to nearly fall flat on my face. "_Dusty_, people are _watching _you."

Both he and I stood still and noticed there were, in fact, nobody in sight. _Fudge_.

I was getting so mad, anger was crushing my lungs and it felt hard to breathe. "I know where we're going!" I shouted.

Dusty wasn't getting mad back at me, which annoyed me even more, and he darn well knew it. I felt the handkerchief he had given me was still in my numb hand, so I took a few steps ahead, to a person's front yard. There was a small built-in pond, with a small red bridge over top of it that seemed like it could snap at any moment. I tossed it in there and glared at Dusty, daring him to outdo _that_.

He took out the green eraser I had given him awhile back and bent over, dropping it in a sewer grate.

Against my better, sophisticated judgement, I stamped my foot."Fine, then! I don't need you." I walked to the other side of the street, _Cherry_. "You find your own way from now on, Dusty!" I didn't want to be on the same _planet_ as him, let alone the same side of the road.

I stomped off until I came to a yellow house, 1304, that had a garden surrounding the white steps leading up to the red door. I knew exactly where I was then, for that house was the only house besides my own I would recognize absolutely anywhere.

It was Grandma's.

A flood of relief rushed through me and I spun around, expecting to see Dusty, but he wasn't there. I instantly felt emptiness, getting rid of that calmed feeling. I desperately needed something to hold. I was fumbling with my hands, like they had a mind of their own.

Having nothing to lose, because Dusty was gone, I knocked on Grandma's door, sort of hoping she would answer so I could talk to her after four years, and sort of hoping she wouldn't answer in case Dusty came back.


	11. Grandma

_This is dedicated to my real Grandma, my dear Grandma Butt. (Yes, you read that right. Don't laugh at her.) Although she is not this old and hates cooking, she does adore the colour purple and has a room in her house dubbed, _The Purple Room. _Every time her grandkids visit, we go on a shopping trip and get to pick five things from the legendary room. Then Grandma goes out and buys more purple random objects to fill the room for the kid`s next visit. It`s a family tradition. Love you Grandma! ^^_

* * *

The door opened barely after I pulled my hand away, and it startled me.

Grandma Tataryn stood there, just as I remembered her, only her face was more crinkly. She wasn't smiling-it was quite the opposite, in fact.

I found my voice. "Hi, Grandma."

Her frown was gone, as soon as it appeared, replaced with a cute old lady smile. You know the one. "Norah, darling, come in!"

I came in.

Her house was small, but neat and tidy. Not a thing was out of place. The walls were painted a soft purple, her favourite color. It smelled like cookies. I'm not trying to make my Grandma sound stereotypical, but it's true. She baked _all_ the time.

She walked slowly. Very. Slowly. I shuffled along to the living room behind, literally not being able to lift my feet. Grandma's slowness was making me dizzy.

She set herself down in a rocking chair, and I sat in a smaller version, across from her.

It couldn't have been more awkward . The clock ticked so loudly I wanted to rip it out of the wall. The pictures hanging and placed on the mantle were staring at me hard; it felt like they were living, breathing people.

Grandma's and I's rocking chairs creaked, and as I looked at her, she appeared fine, as if this something that happened to her daily.

She ran her fingers through her white hair, which reminded me of a cotton ball. Almost like Dusty's, just less curly.

"So," Grandma said. "How are things, Norah?"

_How are things_? "Um, things are good. How are things with you?" I folded my hands in my lap; polite.

Grandma licked her lips, deep in thought, like this was a deathly serious question. She didn't answer for a few moments, then said, "Well, things are very...nice."

"That's good." I wondered if she was going to ask where the rest of my family was, and she did, right on cue.

"So where's your sister? Where's your-"

"I got here by myself," I interrupted, feeling guilty deep down.

Grandma wrinkled up her forehead, even more so."How?"

_Fudge_. "Uh, I-I walked," I said, praying with my fingers crossed she would believe it.

Then she just nodded. Maybe she didn't realize it was one, almost two hours away. _I_ barely realized it.

Grandma scrunched up her nose and stared at me. "You're sick."

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, bringing to mind how runny it was. "Actually-"

Before I knew it, she was leading me with her hands on my shoulders down a purple hallway and into the room I would stay in the odd time we visited her. I sat on the squeaky bed and she sat beside me, putting her arm around me. Wow, and she was stronger than I thought.

This was the only room in the house that wasn't purple- it was green. And I mean _everything _was green. Green walls, green carpet, green curtains, green lamp shades, green picture frames, green blankets, sheets and pillows.

Grandma closed her eyes, mulling over something unknown to me, then said, " What's the trouble, dear?"

I felt like I was dying , but I said," I don't know."

"Boy trouble?"

_Holy heck_.

I wanted to snap at her and say, _What , Grandma, I'm nine years old!_, but I held it in. I sighed. "Maybe. I'm just...so cold."

"Yes, yes, yes, " she muttered. "It rained, yes..." She stood up, _slowly_, I might add. "I'll get you some cookies, I think I have some from this morning..." Grandma wandered off, into the purpleness.

My shoes were caked with mud and I kicked them off. I sprawled out on the bed. My mind was numb. I tried not to think of _you-know-who_, but it was impossible not to.

So I had Grandma, I had cookies, I had a place to get out of the cold, wet, dark world. But I had no Dusty. It all seemed so pointless without him.

I would have given anything to be back out on that lonely road in the drenching rain, sneezing my head off, as long as I was with Dusty.


	12. Thinking

_My little cousin Chaucer is turning nine today! ^^ Same as Norah! _

* * *

I laid there in my own self-pity and sorrow for I don't know how long. Grandma waltzed in with a large plate of cookies. "Chocolate chip," she grinned, handing me one.

I sat up and ate it in three bites. I asked for another. Grandma gave me four others. I ate them way faster than I should have, too.

Grandma just shook her head, but I was so hungry I didn't care.

After my seventh, she said, "Norah, honey, why-" she struggled for the right words."Why are you in pyjamas?"

"Well..." I hadn't improved my mood at all since I was no longer hungry, unfortunately. "See, Grandma, it's a long story."

"Oh, no, no. I'll have none of that."

"It's because I just _am_; because I...forgot to change."

"How could you?"

"Barely got any sleep."

"Well, so?" she said.

"So I wasn't thinking straight," I said.

"Oh," she said, concluding that conversation. Grandma paced the room. Her fuzzy yellow slippers slid along the floor. She was so slow, I again felt dizzy and had to divert my attention to a picture of an orange, fat cat that used to live here. He reminded me of Garfield.

"That's too bad," Grandma commented suddenly, not noticing I had moved on.

"Mmhm." I had another cookie, realizing there was no milk. How could that be? "I guess you have no milk, do you, Grandma?"

"Oh my you're demanding," she said, and I couldn't tell if she was serious or not. She _sounded_ like she meant it, but she was wearing a smile.

"Really, though, can I?" I asked. I was getting that milk one way or another.

Grandma let out a huge sigh, giving in."You know where it is."

I plopped off on my quest for milk. I went into the kitchen and looked out the window, behind purple polka-dot curtains. My heart sank, thinking of polka-dots. They made me think of Dusty.

I climbed up on a chair and grabbed a glass, blah, blah, blah, drank the stupid milk. It was 2%. I usually had 1%.

I came back to the green room and grandma was gone. "Grandma!" I called.

"On the phone!" she called back.

Step by step I dragged myself into the green bed and pulled the covers all the way up, over my head. It's scent was that of dustiness and Sunlight Detergent. I closed my eyes against the nauseating jade colour.

Some time went by before Grandma was standing in the doorway. She talked with who I guessed was my mother. I think she must have thought I was sleeping, with me being a silent lump under a blanket.

I heard bits of the conversation. Words such as, "Walked, Natalie, cartwheels (my Dusty),cookies, ill, pajamas," and ,"hour," stood out.

Grandma popped her head in. I had been peeking out from under a corner of the blanket, straining to hear better. She patted me and said, "For you, dear."

I unravelled the blankets, which were becoming heavy, and carefully took the phone form Grandma.

"Hello?" I said.

"Norah, " Mom said. "Where are you?" She was so angry she didn't even sound angry, and that's when it's the worst.

"At Grandma's, " I said, but I knew she knew it. I twisted my finger in my hair.

"What are you _doing_ there? And what is this; Nat was telling me about you doing a cartwheel in the kitchen?"

I was practically twisting it right out of my head." I was sick, I wasn't thinking." That seemed to be my excuse for everything I screwed up lately.

"You _were_ sick? You _are_ sick. Listen to you."

"I might have something, I don't know." My eyes filled up.

Mom went on, "I've been looking all day for you, we were so worried. And Natalie's fainted. Did you know that? She's never fainted in her life before."

I was about to say that's not true, she fainted one time at the water park when I was two, but what came out surprised me. "And she was hallucinating."

Mom said nothing, but I could picture her nodding. Poor Natalie. _She _was telling the truth and _I_ was making my sister out to be crazy. How did I get so mean?

Mom continued, telling me she'd come pick me up tomorrow. I wanted to tell everyone that, _No, I must wait for Dusty, get him to forgive me_, but they wouldn't know what I meant, so I just said, "Okay." I buried my face into the fluffy lime green pillow. "Okay."


	13. Fixed

I fell asleep on the way home, and didn't wake up for another four hours when we arrived. At least that's what they say.

Something was shaking me. I had that heavy feeling all over. I didn't open my eyes. I would just stay in this warm place as long as the outside forces allowed me.

I suddenly felt something that smelled like bubble gum wash across my face and heard a gasp; of course, Natalie. I felt the pressure on my legs ease off and listened to Nat running out of the room, saying, "She's awake!"

I didn't _want_ to be. How long had Nat been sitting on my legs? They were all tingly. She must have been like a hundred million pounds.

Mom and Dad came rushing in, so now I felt obliged to open my eyes and look at them. I was prepared for a, "talk," a lecture, a disapproving glare from my father. But I got none of that. Instead they just hugged me until I couldn't breathe.

* * *

The next few days I was confined to my bedroom. My cold appeared to not be letting up any time soon. No visitors but my immediate family. If I recall correctly, I am naturally jumpy person, therefore, I am not the type to lie around all day.

Not to mention I missed Dusty.

If Dusty were only here with me, I'm tremendously sure I would have recovered a _long_ time ago.

Every day for six days, I woke up sick, miserable, and aching. On the bright side, which I struggled to see, was that I was getting better. Slowly, but surely.

I lost track of what day it was. I spent all my time in the backyard, mechanically doing math problems. When I did come inside, I didn't sleep in my bed, but on the floor where Dusty slept. I would curl up in a ball, snuggle into the colourful blankets he used to snuggle into .

In a way, this was good for me. Me, Norah, was the nerdy girl who _finally_ got a friend from God, and ended up losing him. The whole world should feel sorry for me. What a case I am.

Natalie would come outside and bring me food. "Hi, honey," she would say. She would give me a lop-sided grin, bend down and sit a plate in front of me and occasionaly a juicebox, then ruffle my hair. She never mentioned what she's supposedly, "seen," that morning; my Dusty, my angel. Maybe she really did believe it was just her imagination. Nat didn't say a word about it so neither did I.

After she goes back into the house, I throw the sandwich or hotdog or whatever Mom made over the fence, into the evil neighbour's yard. I had no appetite at all. I hoped their stupid Pomeranian would see it, eat it, and choke on it.

Fairly soon, they started throwing the food back over. Obviously, us and them have no communication skills with each other.

I should have felt guilty, but I felt the exact opposite. I took out everything on those around me. I couldn't stop it.

Dad came out one day and sat on the grass beside me. I looked up from my English assignment. "Yes?" I asked, the dreadful sun making me squint at him.

Dad said, "Baby girl, you gotta cut it out."

I sniffed and turned away. This is exactly what I'd been frantically trying to avoid. _Fudge, fudge, and fudge again. _

"Whatever it is," he told me, "it'll get better. Things always get better." He put his arm around me and side-hugged me.

"Dad, you're squishing me," I said through gritted teeth. He smiled, a fake one, then went back inside, out of the nagging, scorching heat.

* * *

At last I had to go inside, just after five. The sun started going down and I packed up my textbooks and notebooks and headed in.

"Hey, babe," said Nat cheerfully, wriggling her fingers at me in greeting. She skipped around after me as I tried to get to the kitchen and grab my secret stash of chocolate. I hid a bunch of Hershey's Kisses in an old antique cookie jar Mom kept on the top shelf that everyone but me thought was dusty and old and empty.

"What do you want?" I asked anxiously, wanting her to leave; I needed my sugar fix and would die if she found out my stash.

"Nothing," she said, just as happy. Why the heck was she not being a typical teenage puke?

"Don't you have something to do?"

Nat shrugged and popped her gum, looking a little hurt. "Just wanted to say hi."

"_Hi_, Natalie."

She sighed. "Hi, Norah."

I crossed my arms and tapped my foot until she got the message and went off. I knew I had hurt her feelings, but chocolate mattered the most right now.

Dragging a chair across the floor to the very top shelf, I watched as Natalie forlornly climbed the stairs to her room. I reached for the jar and pulled out a Kiss. At the last moment before I unwrapped it, something made me sprint after my sister and throw my arms around her. As expected, we both toppled over.

"What the hell?" Natalie asked, coughing, laying on her back on the stairs, me on my back beside her. I shouldn't have done that; it knocked the breath right out of me. On the other hand it made me happy because this whole thing reminded me of when we were younger and wrestled each other until Mom screamed at us. Nat usually won, since she bit me, which was against the rules. Not like I could stop her.

"You made me swallow my-"

I held out the Kiss to Nat. "For you," I said.

She sat up and clutched her throat with one hand and accepted the chocolate with the other. "That's gonna take seven years, you know." But she ate it anyway. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I said,"and I'm sorry." I really meant it.

She put her arm around me and we sat on the stairs together like that until Mom and Dad came home from work. We didn't speak; she and I had said and done enough to make me feel like something between us had somehow been fixed.


	14. Fate

_God bless LADYMALLARD and Foxcat93, my dearest readers, for everything! I honestly can't thank you enough! I mean holy crumb cakes, you've been here the whole time! ^^ Ti amo...(Italian for _I love you_!) _

* * *

Believe it or not, once in a blue moon, rain visited us. On the day it did, I had no choice but to lock myself in my room and stay there.

I didn't do any school. I tried, but my mind wouldn't focus. It kept going back to Dusty and me, walking, skipping, in the rain.

And I hated myself for thinking it. Whenever a single thought of him popped in my head I would get angry at me. I would try so hard to forget it. _It's over now_, I'd say in my head. It wasn't, though. There was just _now_, just the moment.

I'd walk down the stairs. _Dusty used these_. I mentally slapped myself.

I was starting to be nicer to people. Mom said it was about time I stopped acting like a PMSing teenage girl, but before I pointed out I had four years left of child and non-teenager hood, and that I didn't know what PMSing meant, she was laughing too hard to listen to me.

I got my appetite back, thank heavens. I chewed on a piece of liquorice and gazed out the window. There was a rainbow over the mountains. I turned my back on it and looked at the bookcase I had that's collecting dust. I experienced one of those dramatic moments, where I could break into song, singing _Somewhere Over the Rainbow_. I had the urge, but I didn't.

I heard a knock on my window. I ignored it. Still, I look back and wonder why I didn't know who it was yet.

Another _knock_ I continued to leave alone. When one more came, I either got annoyed or creeped out, and went over to the window and looked down.

Earth tilted under me.

There Dusty stood, with his purple coat and bottomless pockets and accordion-like top hat. He held something wide and green, but it was too hard to see from up here.

Sunlight bounced off the wet grass and made everything sort of shine. I smiled. I tapped the glass and then took off out of my room, shoved past Natalie, down the stairs, through the door. My legs were going so fast I couldn't keep up with them.

Dusty now had an umbrella, despite the fact the sun had come out (mostly) and the rain stopped beating down. He was looking at me wearily, and I found it so amazing what the green stuff on the plate was.

_Jello_.

I must have appeared pretty stunned; Dusty grinned and honked, and when he did, I thought, _Fudge, I would have given anything to hear that just a week ago._

Dusty walked slowly up to me, the Jello outstretched. He took each step as if he wanted to make a lasting impression in the land.

He held the plate out to me expectantly, bubbling over with excitement. He was shifting from foot to foot, and his hair, his noodle soup hair, glowed.

I did something I wasn't willing myself to do. I wrapped my arms around Dusty's middle and hugged him like this was the last chance in my life. I again surprised myself, blurting out, "I love you."

* * *

Dusty and I went back to the park where God initially sent him to me. Dusty was clearly searching for someone-the balloon vendor. He never came, though.

And Dusty was in such a good mood, even if Mr. Balloon man was nowhere around; he took out his scissors and was cutting everything. He cut pieces off people's coats, stuffing them in his pockets and even giving one to me; it was a yellow raincoat that belonged to a brunette woman I sometimes see at _Wal-Mart_.

Then we sat cross-legged on the grass, our knees touching, eating green jello. I was so happy. Joy spiralled throughout me; that feeling when you put on warm pyjamas from the dryer. Speaking of pyjamas, the ones I wore a couple weeks ago are neatly folded and sitting on top of my bookshelf. _Washed_.

I begged Mom not to wash them. They were the only part of Dusty I had left. When she refused, I _demanded_. Still, there they are, clean as clean can be. I was so upset about it, I haven't worn those pink P.J's since. Maybe I should now. And maybe I should apologize to Mom for getting mad about her washing them. In reality, she's only trying to keep me clean.

Dusty's umbrella was back in one of his pockets. I asked him to put it away when he began closing it, then opening it quickly and loudly in passerby's faces. He glared at me, shook the umbrella at me, "laughed," and tucked it into the inside of his purple coat.

The jello was much needed. Maybe that's the reason I felt so happy. Or possibly because I was in the company of an angel. I don't know. Probably both.

I stared at Dusty and felt more thankful to him than anyone else. I smiled until my cheeks ached.

_Honk honk_. Dusty took off his hat and sat it-I can't believe this was happening to me!- on my head. I laughed out loud as it fell over my eyes, blinding me. I tipped it back up and patted it, letting him now I loved it as much as he loved it. I felt this was like an initiation of sorts, that this sealed our fate, our friendship.

I knew when all angels like him(not _quite_ like him) were gone, he's still be here. That was one of the beautiful things about Dusty. How he didn't speak, but talked with his eyes, his _honking_. How he made anyone smile. How he found beauty in everything and everyone. How he would find somehow, someway, to get you whatever you wanted, whether it be a baseboard or jello. But mostly, how he followed you around, to the ends of the Earth.

_The End_

_**HARPO ADOLPH(ARTHUR) MARX- R.I.P. **_


End file.
